Progenis Mater
by Saadie
Summary: Yet another "Harry-has-other-living-relatives" story, only not magical relatives, we've done that to death. This is a story of Harry and his life if his rather distant and curious muggle relatives had intervened. Rated T just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Progenis Mater**

**Pilot Chapter **

By: Saadie

* * *

**Summary:** Yet another "Harry-has-other-living-relatives" story, only not magical relatives, we've done that to death. This is a story of Harry and his life if his rather distant and curious muggle relatives had intervened.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter. I'm pretty sure you can tell by the dismal Latin in the title. I swear I'll get the fixed just as soon as I get back to residence and can corner my friend who's taking the aforementioned language. Eventually.

**Standard A/N:** None of my stories are beta-d, I'm not actively looking but if anyone ever offers :). Until then, ya'll just have to put up with my atrocious grammar!

* * *

"And stay in there until you learn what's good for you, you little freak!"

Petunia slammed the door to the cupboard underneath the stairs with her pale, bony hand as hard as she dared to without risking any chips or breakage to her newly manicured red nails. "Honestly," she muttered to herself as she stormed towards the kitchen, "that little freak can't even wash the dishes properly. Broke that saucer clean in two with his useless fumbling! I have half a mind to make him clean it but he cuts himself and gets any of his freak blood on my carpet, why, that stuff will never come out!"

With that thought in mind, Petunia hurried to wrap up the broken pieces of the saucer in yesterday's newspaper before depositing it in the waste bin, all the while careful not to cut her fingers on any sharp edges. She squinted watery blue eyes as she craned her long neck to inspect the floor; if there were any stray pieces that were left that might cut her precious little Dudders, why then, she'd make sure that freak paid the price tenfold. When she could find none, she nodded to herself, satisfied with her work and set out to make herself a nice cup of tea.

* * *

Harry waited until the footsteps of his aunt's angry stomping had stopped for at least five minutes before he uncurled himself from the fetal position he had assumed the moment Aunt Petunia had shoved him into the cupboard. The light of the afternoon sun was still filtering into the cupboard through cracks opposite of the sun room so Harry opted not to turn on the light bulb – he knew Uncle Vernon wouldn't replace it for weeks and that light bulb was his only source of light.

Ever so slowly, Harry reached underneath the battered cot he laid upon, shifted slightly every now and then so the book clasped between his fingers could slip free noiselessly and without cutting his fingers. It was a much abused copy, Dudley's copy really, of _The Little Prince_. Dudley had never read it but used it to build ramps for his racecars which resulted in the many rips and tears on both the front cover and back. Squinting, Harry opened the book and, gingerly positioned it under a sliver of light, began to read, tugging at his fringe absentmindedly. The words weren't that hard, though there were still many beyond his rather limited six year-old vocabulary, and the story was interesting even if a bit confusing for Harry. He wished he could be like the Little Prince and travel away from the Dursleys, far, far away from his cupboard and to his own planet. In fact, Harry was so engrossed in the book that he startled at the sound of the doorbell ringing.

* * *

Petunia was on her second cup of tea and halfway through a buttered scone when the doorbell rang, echoing through the front foyer. All thoughts of calling Mrs. Polkiss to arrange a play-date for Piers and Dudley flew out of her mind as she rose slowly, placing the teacup onto its saucer with her pinky cushioning the cup and muting any noise just as her mother had taught her any lady would do. She made her way to the door, walking leisurely at the sight of a woman's silhouette in the window; it was most likely just Mrs. Prentice from down the street coming to borrow some sugar or share some recipe she had found.

Briefly, her thoughts moved to the boy as she passed the cupboard under the stairs and she doubled-back quickly, rapping sharply on the door. "You keep quiet boy. If anyone hears you there'll be no dinner for you tonight, you hear me?"

A muffled, "Yes, Aunt Petunia," filtered through the cupboard door.

Satisfied with the boy's subdued tone and certain that her threat was enough to keep the boy in line, Petunia turned back to the task at hand, quickening her pace to make up for her little detour. "Yes, yes, I'm coming!" she called; that ought to keep Mrs. Prentice from complaining of her manners to any of the other neighbours.

Reaching the front door, she pulled it upon, a practiced smile pasted on her bony face. A smile that slid off before she could control herself as she drew back, half in shock and half in suspicion as she took in the face in front of her. Words slipped out before she could stop them.

* * *

The doorbell was followed by the light screeching of a chair pushed back and the familiar footsteps of his aunt. As quickly as he dared, Harry shoved the book underneath his cot, nearly snagging his nail on a stray spring, before flattening himself on his blanket.

The footsteps drew closer, almost seeming to pass him before there was a pause and then a series of sharp knocks resounded in his tiny cupboard. "You keep quiet boy," came Aunt Petunia's shrill tones in a harsh whisper, "If anyone hears you there'll be no dinner for you tonight, you hear me?"

Knowing that she wanted a reply, Harry was quick to whisper his understanding as quietly as possible so she wouldn't get mad at him for being too loud or something and take away his dinner anyways. Either way, his answer must have satisfied her because the next thing he knew, the footsteps were moving away from him again and he could heard his Aunt calling out in a fake polite voice to whomever was at the door. He kept quiet, listening as the locks were turned and the door swung open to admit the sounds of birds chirping. Harry smiled at the melodious tunes; he had always liked birds.

He frowned when he realized his Aunt hadn't greeted the other person properly. Before he could speculate as to why that was, Aunt Petunia's voice could be heard in a shocked whisper that had Harry pressing his eye against one of the cracks to see who it was at the door.

* * *

"What are _you_ doing here?"

* * *

AN: Wow it' really been a while since I've written everything and quite a while since I took everything down and yes this first chapter is really short! I spent the first half of my first year in university ignoring my plot bunnies in hopes that I could successfully focus in school. Needless to say, it didn't work and I'm back again! I hope you guys enjoyed this new piece though and that it wasn't too much of a disappointment. It's a new bunny that's taken to gnawing on my brain and so I decided to give things a try. As you may have noticed, this is labeled a Pilot chapter. This is just in case the bunny was temporary and takes off on me after one chapter or that you all read this and realized it was hideous and flames me half to death. In either of those cases, I'll most likely remove this piece or just leave it hanging. Depends on how lazy I feel.

Anyways, thanks for taking the time to read this and as always, please do review. Criticism, constructive preferably, flames, hopefully now, just dropping a line, whatever. Reviews are addicting. Like cookies. Or ice-cream. Or chocolate. Or chocolate cookies smothered in ice-cream.

Ever yours,

Saadie

Note: If I stopped making sense at any point of my ANs or just writing in general, I blame university. It does that to you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Progenis Mater**

**Chapter II: Of Broken Saucers & Eavesdropping **

By: Saadie

* * *

Summary: Yet another "Harry-has-other-living-relatives" story, only not magical relatives, we've done that to death. This is a story of Harry and his life if his rather distant and curious muggle relatives had intervened.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm pretty sure you can tell by the dismal Latin in the title. My friend in Latin classes just gave me a weird look so I'm pretty sure it's weird or something. Anyone you don't recognize is either an OC of mine or a really obscure character only mentioned briefly in a blurb.

Standard A/N: None of my stories are beta-d, I'm not actively looking but if anyone ever offers :). Until then, ya'll just have to put up with my atrocious grammar!

* * *

_She_ leaned forward slightly with a taunting smile and Petunia felt herself taking a step back, and then another, until there was room enough for _her_ to pass. It was self-preservation at its finest; Petunia knew beyond a doubt that she could not deny _her_ entrance and she had no wish to make a scene in front of the neighbours. Already there were several curious heads craning over fences and almost openly ogling the pristinely white stretch limo parked in front of their driveway. Petunia pursed her lips but said nothing as _she_ breezed through the door without a single care that she had just single-handedly thrown Petunia's relaxing day off into turmoil – just explaining the presence of a limo would be enough of a headache.

Shutting the door, Petunia turn around, determined to play the perfect host to that despicable woman – and oh! She would do it so well, be beyond reproach so _she_ could complain of nothing – only to stop dead at the sight of _her_ already seated in the living room, legs daintily crossed, hands demurely in her lap even as she stared Petunia down, daring her to say something. Petunia forced a smile onto her face and took a deep breath to calm herself, "What an unexpected but pleasant surprise! Would you like some tea? I just bought some fine Darjeeling tea the other day, let me just go grab us a pot and some refreshments, it'll just be a moment."

Without waiting for a response, Petunia whirled on her heels, only barely able to keep herself from stomping down the hall and into the kitchen. Besides those _freaks_, there could not have been a more unwelcomed guest.

* * *

Harry watched, utterly fascinated by the way his aunt seemed to have to force herself to move from the doorway and admit the mysterious stranger that she seemed to hate so much. His eyes widened comically when the visitor finally cleared the doorway and for that instant, just one instant before they disappeared into the living room, Harry could see her perfectly. Why ever would his Aunt hate this lady? And a lady she was, she moved like one of those princesses in the movies they had watched in school a couple of days back. Her hair was blonde but unlike Aunt Petunia's pale straw-blonde, the lady's hair gleamed of rich golden hues, like honey glistening in sunlight. She stood just a tad shorter than Aunt Petunia and seemed to have a soft smile permanently upon her face as opposed to Aunt Petunia's pursed lips and scowls. The lady wore a white summer dress that Harry was certain he had seen in Aunt Petunia's magazines, one that Harry had seen his aunt fawn over for weeks now.

Even now, Aunt Petunia seemed to move mechanically, freezing again when she looked into the living room. There was a tense silence and Harry was wondering if, hoping really, the lady would speak. Would she have a nice voice? She had to, all princesses had soft soothing voices in the movies and, since she looked so much like one, the lady must also sound just as gentle and kind. His aunt broke the silence, prattling on about some sort of tea before she moved towards the kitchen, hands clenched so tightly that Harry instinctively recoiled from the door of the cupboard before returning to his perch near the crack – this was the most interesting thing that has ever happened in Privet Drive!

* * *

Petunia near slammed the tray into the glass table beside the couch, catching herself just in time to ease it onto the table and set about pouring two cups and placing one in easy reach of her guest – she refused to hand it to her like some servant! Settling onto the couch adjacent to _her_ seat, Petunia sipped from her cup before finally looking at her guest. Her scowl deepened as she took in the brand-name dress she had yearned for but couldn't afford – it was just like _her_ to flaunt her wealth.

"Is there a reason why you came here?"

A tinkling laugh like a breeze running through wind chimes sounded and Petunia steeled herself for the reply. "Still blunt as ever I see, _Perrine_. And why, must there be a reason for me to visit? It has been much too long since I've seen you, dear cousin_._"

The air between them seemed almost electric now; Petunia's smile came out as more of a grimace despite her best efforts. "Of course Lucia," Petunia paused to take a sip of tea and, struggling not to choke on her words, continued. "I'd be simply delighted to see you more often. It's just you rarely ever visit, and even then, they are never just social."

"True, I've only been here twice. Once for the housewarming and the second for Dudley's birth. Last time I saw you was after the birth of Liliane's baby boy, Harry I believe they named him." Lucia sighed in her usual dramatic fashion that Petunia hated while twirling a stray honey lock around her finger, "Such a plain name, I really had hoped Liliane would reconsider, the meaning's good and all but really, a Lord's child named Harry? Harold would have been more fitting however old fashion. Have you heard from your sister ever since she went under that program, witness protection was it? It's been a good five years since."

Petunia dropped her saucer at the mention of Lily and fumbled to recover herself and gather her scattered thoughts about her. She had completely forgotten to tell the rest of her family about Lily's death. Had been so glad to just forget about her irritatingly perfect sister and her perfectly _magical_ life and could have if it wasn't for that little freak sitting underneath the stairs right now. How was she going to explain this? The little freak was no doubt eavesdropping at the very moment but there was something greater than that. She could pawn him off onto another member of the family! They didn't know about the freakishness of Lily and the rest of her world. They could take the boy and all his freakishness and Petunia wouldn't have to worry day in and day out about the freak tainting her home and her precious Dudders.

Looking up, she flinched at the sight of those eyes set in that achingly familiar heart-shaped face. That startling intensity of her stare, like the fireflies they had trapped in glass soda bottles one autumn evening with hands still sticky from spilt Sprite and melted jellybeans; like the sunlight filtering through the shade of a thousand leaves of the tree she spent forever lazing under when the sweltering heat made it too much to move; like candlelight hidden behind blades of too long grass that time her father had broken his leg and no one had wanted to mow the lawn; like running up and down rolling hills of the French countryside with that warm hand clasped firmly in her cooler one, bare feet upon damp soil and the hems of their dresses soaked in dew within minutes – a thousand moments in her childhood, all wrapped up in her sister's eyes way back before she became a freak. Her mouth felt dry, throat burning with tears that threatened to rush into her eyes so she forced herself to swallow before croaking out a reply, forced herself to remember that many people in her family had those eyes.

"Lily's dead, been dead for five years now. Her husband was drunk and crashed the car, killed her and himself."

* * *

Harry gasped, stuffing one hand into his mouth to stifle the sound. Why was the Lady calling Aunt Petunia, Perrine? That Lady, Lucia his aunt had called her, was Aunt Petunia's cousin? What was she to him then, his Aunt? Wait! That meant he had other relatives! Relatives that weren't the Dursleys, relatives who smiled instead of scowled, spoke in soft, gentle tones instead of screeches. But why hadn't they come to visit him before? Did they not know he existed?

He had spent so many night underneath the stairs, dreaming that one day his relatives, relatives he hadn't know about and someone nicer than the Dursleys, would come and take him away. That they would come to look for him at long last and demand the Dursleys give him to them. They would open the cupboard door and hold him, hugging him like he'd see Aunt Petunia do to Dudley, and they would take him to a new home a thousand times better than here.

Perhaps they didn't care, didn't want to deal with a little freak like him. He thought of the Lady in her pretty dress with her pretty hair and graceful movements and decided that must have been why. No "respectable people", like his aunt had said, would want to see a freak.

But then the Lady had started talking to his aunt about her sister, only she said 'Liliane' instead of 'Lily' but Aunt Petunia only had one sister and the Lady called his aunt 'Perrine' so maybe his mum had another name, a special one, too? Did he have one? And then the Lady was talking about him, even said she had been there when he was born! So maybe she wouldn't mind that he was a freak? But then why didn't they visit?

Harry had never been more confused in his whole life. Was the pretty Lady really related to him? The lady was talking again and Harry strained to listen – she talked so softly it was getting really hard to catch what she said – when suddenly she asked his aunt whether she had heard from his mum after they went under some weird program, 'witness' something, and Harry realized that she didn't know his mum had died and so had his dad. Harry wondered what would happen if he burst out of the cupboard now. His aunt would be mad but since the Lady was here, she wouldn't hit him right? But would the Lady be shocked at how he looked, would she realize he was a freak and leave him here? He stayed silent instead, realizing his aunt hadn't answered. Then she was telling the Lady that his dad had been drunk and crashed the car with his mum in it and the Lady had been silent before she said in, dare Harry hope it? An urgent tone?

"And the child? What happened to little Harry, Perrine? **And why have you not told us of Liliane's death after all these years?**"

* * *

Petunia swallowed hard, refusing to quail under Lucia's unforgiving gaze. Should she tell her that the boy was with her? But then she would insist upon seeing the boy and by God, the entire family would have her strung up by her heels if they found out she had kept him in a cupboard underneath the stairs. Should she tell them the boy had died? No, the freak was listening, he'd make a racket and they'd find him locked underneath the staircase and there'd still be hell to pay. "The boy has been living with us but I'm afraid him and Dudley don't get along. The boy's over at a friend's house for the weekend."

The lie slipped from her mouth before she could stop herself and she waited, forcing herself to meet Lucia's unblinking stare and hoping she would buy it and that the stupid freak would stay quiet!

Lucia held her gaze for a little longer before nodding slowly, eyes never leaving Petunia's face. "Very well Perrine, I'll take your word for it for now. But you were right; this is anything but a social visit. Grand-père suspects that he is on his deathbed and insists that the whole family be gathered. You have been absent for too long Perrine, Grand-père wants to see his all of his children and that includes you and your family no matter how you reluctant you are to keep in contact with us. The school year is drawing to an end. After this last week why don't you pack for a nice vacation to the French countryside? Bring Dudley and Harry to see the rest of the family, the boys should learn of their heritage, though Vernon can be excused if he has pressing business to attend to."

Petunia bristled at the tone in Lucia's voice, she was sick of being polite to this blasted cousin of hers. Who did she think she was, ordering Petunia around like that? "Do you expect me to just drop everything and whisk my child away on your command? And that tone! Do you always talk to your elders like that Lucia? However did Tante Alexandrie put up with your cheek?"

Lucia returned her saucer to the table before standing, drawing herself up to her full height that was admittedly intimidating despite the fact that Petunia was taller. Nothing in her posture or her voice betrayed the fury that burned so brightly in her eyes. "Grand-père asks it of us, the family demands your presence. Do not shame the Leclaires any more than you already have Perrine; Papa Richard will not hesitate to disown you completely, whether or not Grand-père agrees. Come to _Le Chalet_ in a week's time, with or without Vernon but the children must be present. Do not forget yourself again in front of your betters Perrine."

Petunia reared back as if slapped, "You are not my better! You mindless chit! You're no better than me and certainly nothing more than a soon-to-be trophy wife!"

Lucia smiled that wretched smile of hers, face still infuriating calm, "Ah but by your own words I am to be a trophy: someone to be treasured, admired and proud of. You Perrine? You'll never be more than the over-worked housewife of a walrus of a man who's never going to amount to anything. No beautiful dress or expensive make-up, no perfect lawn or white picket fence, nothing in the world will ever be enough to hide the fact that you're a petty, bitter woman who's always been jealous of everyone better than her and too caught up in how 'unfair' it all is to ever try to better herself!"

She watched silently as Lucia turned and glided out of the living room, perfectly composed as if that angry tirade from seconds ago had not occurred at all. Petunia could feel her nails biting into her skin now, the edges imprinting cookie-cutter crescents into her palm. Lucia opened the door to let herself out, turning her head to stare at Petunia as she fired off one last parting shot, "God must be blind at times or there is a greater purpose. What justice is it that you are still here when darling Liliane no longer walks amongst the living?"

For a moment as the sunlight illuminated Lucia's almond-shaped eyes, Lucia's honey locks blurred and all Petunia could see was Lily's glowing red tresses in the doorway. By the time Petunia came to her senses, she had already hurled the saucer of her favourite porcelain tea set at the closed door with a scream as it shattered against the polished wood.

That was the second saucer today. She should have known nothing would go well when the freak had broken the first one.

* * *

AN: Sorry if the update was kind of slow. At the moment I'm still stuck mapping out the family tree and I also ended up re-writing the second half of the chapter twice. The imagery of Lily's distinctive eyes didn't get across too well and I still don't think it's all that good but I had no idea how to tweak it anymore. Hopefully it wasn't too bad?

Hope you guys enjoyed it anyways. Feel free to make suggestions or ask any questions if I made a huge blunder and something made no sense at all, I'll do my best to answer unless it spoils the rest of the story. Also, please do tell me if you think Lucia came across as too much of a Mary-Sue. As always, please take the time to review! They're like mother's milk to me.

Ever yours,

Saadie


	3. Chapter 3

**Progenis Mater**

**Chapter III: Shopping Sprees, Bonbons, & Unfamiliar Towns **

By: Saadie

* * *

Summary: Yet another "Harry-has-other-living-relatives" story, only not magical relatives, we've done that to death. This is a story of Harry and his life if his rather distant and curious muggle relatives had intervened.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm pretty sure you can tell by the dismal Latin in the title. My friend in Latin classes just gave me a weird look so I'm pretty sure it's weird or something. Anyone you don't recognize is either an OC of mine or a really obscure character only mentioned briefly in a blurb.

Standard A/N: None of my stories are beta-d, I'm not actively looking but if anyone ever offers :). Until then, ya'll just have to put up with my atrocious grammar!

* * *

Harry spent the last week of first grade in a constant daze, trapped within a daydream that his Aunt Petunia would regard as a nightmare.

Ever since that lady who claimed to be his aunt's cousin had appeared, Harry had fell asleep every night imagining how the rest of his family was like. They'd all be beautiful or handsome, Harry had decided, kind and loving and giving and polar opposites to everything the Dursleys were like. He dreamt that the lady, although he'd secretly taken to calling him Auntie Lucia in his head, would come back and find him and take him away to live with her.

In his current state nothing else mattered. He'd been backhanded by Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia has aimed two frying pans at his head just this week alone. Dudley had picked up on his parents' increasingly foul mood and even gone as far as to rip Harry's pictures up in front of the teacher. He'd gotten in trouble for that but Dudley had told his parents that Harry had ripped them himself and blamed Dudley instead – Aunt Petunia was glad for the ready-made excuse to send him straight into his cupboard for the day. But none of it had put even a dent in Harry's good mood at knowing that he was going to meet the rest of his family, family he still couldn't believe he _had_, in just a few days.

After that visit, Aunt Petunia had sat Uncle Vernon down and told him about her cousin visiting. Uncle Vernon had gone purple in the face, just a shade away from asphyxiation, and ranted for almost an hour, breaking out the whiskey and drinking himself into a stupor while complaining about "good-for-nothing broads thinking they're so important" and how none of Aunt Petunia's family "understood what it meant to earn their own keep like any good self-respecting and hardworking British man did".

In the end he had puffed up his chest and told Aunt Petunia that he was simply too important to leave work for an entire week and that he wasn't going to waste his vacation leave to visit her pompous relatives even if he could. He had concluded by announcing that they should come back as soon as possible, hinting that Aunt Petunia should try to "lose" the freak along the way, so he could take Aunt Petunia and Dudley on a 'real vacation'. Aunt Petunia had seemed none too pleased that she had to go alone with her son and the freak but could say nothing as Vernon had passed out on the dining room table, ridiculously intoxicated, just moments after his declaration.

Harry found himself consumed half by his thoughts and half by Aunt Petunia's sudden shopping frenzy. She had pulled out all the savings she had hoarded away to "properly outfit her precious Diddykins" and herself of course. To Harry's eternal surprise, Aunt Petunia had even gotten _him_ a few sets on new clothes. Granted they were nowhere as grand or as good quality as Dudley and Aunt Petunia's, but they were the first and only clothes that Harry had ever been given that hadn't been Dudley's first. At his wide-eyed look, Aunt Petunia's face had twisted into a grimace at the reminder that she was wasting money on that little freak, but told him in no uncertain terms that he only got to keep the clothes for as long as he stayed quiet.

He was not to tell anyone about living in the cupboard under the stairs.

He was not to tell them about not having meals or being locked in for days.

He was not to tell them he cooked and cleaned for the Dursleys.

He was not to tell anyone that these were his first new clothes.

He was _especially_ not to tell anyone that Uncle Vernon beat him sometimes; really beat on him when he was drunk, not the occasional slapping around he did when he was sober.

The list had gone on and on and Harry had nodded, still wide-eyed with wonder at his new possessions. A tiny voice in his mind though was constantly whispering to him that it was well worth the risk of losing his new possessions if he could stay with Auntie Lucia and the rest of his family.

So caught up was he in the haze of frantic packing and the increasingly foul moods of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon that Harry hadn't even fully register that the week was over and that they were on their way to see the rest of his family until he was outfitted in a clean blue t-shirt and khakis (both of which actually fit!) and sitting on a train across from Dudley who was throwing a huge tantrum. Aunt Petunia had pleaded incessantly with Dudley in babied tones while the various people in their carriage cast annoyed looks at the chubby child screaming his head off and kicking his mother repeatedly. From the looks of their faces, they weren't very impressed with Aunt Petunia's parenting skills either.

Harry sat as still and quietly as he possibly could; it would be good practice for later. Surely his relatives would see that he was well-mannered child and not the unholy terror his relatives proclaimed he was to anyone who would listen. Then, when they found out about how Aunt Petunia was lying to them, they would whisk him away to live in a fairytale castle and he would stay with Auntie Lucia and live happily ever after. Surely they had to take him in once they found out the truth. But he had to prove to them that he was good and worthy of being taken in.

After an hour he felt stiff all over from his new goal but was reluctant to relax. Even the continued screams and frantic shushing and pleas of his cousin and aunt weren't enough to deter him from this new experience. This was it. The start of a magical journey, everything he had ever hoped for. His dream of being whisked away from the Dursleys, from Privet Drive and all the horrors of suburban Surrey, was about to be realized. _You can do this, Harry._ He told himself, eyes staring fiercely at the vibrant trees just a shade darker than his own brilliant eyes. _You can do this, prove that you're not a freak and they'll take you away and nothing Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon or even Dudley ever said will matter anymore._

* * *

"Grandpère," Lucia gave a slight, demure curtsey as she slipped into the study, "you asked for me?"

"Ah, _Lucille_, my darling child, come sit by me," the elderly man called, waving her over with a fond smile.

She beamed at him and moved swiftly to settle into the leather seat beside him. He reached to clasp her smaller hand in his, holding it tenderly – of all his great-grandchildren, Lucille was his secret favourite. She reminded him so much of his darling, departed wife and she had been one of the few of his grandchildren who kept close to him even as she aged. While many of his grandchildren cared for and respected him, Lucille had always gone beyond that, loving him and retaining that childish wonder she had when she first met him when he was still younger and strong.

Now the strength in his bones had long since fled but his family still remained. He counted himself lucky, as he gave her hand an affectionate squeeze, that so many of his descendants were still there to keep him company. "Did you speak to _Perrine_, my dear? How has that wayward child of mine been?"

Lucia gave a slight sigh and donned a rueful smile, "I did, Grandpère, and she is still the same. Bitter and most unwilling to associate with us. I always blamed that husband of her's for instilling ridiculous ideas in her head. It has now changed, only gotten worse. Oh, Grandpère! He can barely provide for her properly, _Perrine_ has aged so from the constant stress! I only hope that young Dudley is nothing like his father," she wrinkled her nose slightly, "Dudley, what a horrid name."

He gave a slight laugh and patted her hand, "Now, now, _Lucille_, perhaps it is not as bad as you make it to be. I will judge for myself when I see her. Has she agreed to come visit?"

"Yes, Grandpère, she was difficult but I persuaded her in the end."

"Good, good, did she have any news of _Liliane_?" he asked.

Lucia fell silent, features morose. "My dear child, what is wrong?" he prodded gently.

She answered in a small voice, "_Perrine_ said that _Liliane_ was killed in a car crash along with James, Grandpère. They died five years ago and she never told us."

He gasped, squeezing her hand tightly in his. Liliane had been a brilliant and happy child, one who laughed constantly with enough affection for everyone and a smile to light up any room. When she had married James Potter, he could still remember the happy glow in her eyes and the radiant smile she had when she announced that she was pregnant. To hear that his pretty little flower had left the world before he had and that _Perrine_ had kept it from the rest of the family filled him with despair and anger. "And the child, _Lucille_? What of their child?" he asked urgently.

"Please, Grandpère, calm! It's not good for your heart! _Henri_ is fine; I did not see him or Dudley when I visited but _Perrine_ will bring both boys with her when she comes," soothed Lucia, silently cursing Petunia in her mind for making her the bearer of such terrible news, "You'll see them both then. I'm sure _Henri_ will be a delightful child, just like _Liliane_. They'll be here within the week."

* * *

What could have been a continuous train ride, Petunia deliberately broke into several shorter trips. Yes, it was slightly more expensive to stay overnight in different towns but she preferred to take her time and familiarize herself with the French culture once more before arriving at _Le Chalet_; she refused to be caught off-guard by her obnoxious relatives again!

With a huff, she loaded the boy's arms with dresses from the department store, smiling in what she believed to be a winning manner at the sales assistant who introduced yet another stylish dress to the horse-faced woman. The dress itself was tasteful but the entirely wrong cut for Petunia's figure. Nevertheless, by the time he was done, she was convinced that no one's figure had ever been so suited to such a lovely dress and she left the shop laden with bags that she was quick to shove towards her nephew.

Her precious Dudders ought to be awake by now, she'll go up to the hotel room and collect him now and then she could all stop for a nice lunch before boarding the one-o'clock train. Bustling through the crowd, she was careful to keep a firm grip on the boy's shoulder. It wouldn't do to lose him now or all times.

* * *

Harry sat quietly on his chair and hiding his face beneath unruly hair as Dudley's whining for a third helping of dessert got louder and louder. Aunt Petunia was cooing at Dudley, promising that he could have something off the cart on the train later but that they had to leave now or they were going to be late. The patrons around them were shooting incredulous looks at the mother and child while the waiters struggled to hide looks of disgust behind perfectly polite veneers as they eyed the mess they would have to clean up after the pudgy child left their fine establishment.

After much over-done coaxing, with Harry following quietly behind the whole time, they finally managed to board the train and Harry was given permission to wander the different compartments on the condition that he didn't make a nuisance of himself after loading the last of Aunt Petunia's bags onto the racks. "We'll be there in five hours, boy, and you know where our compartment is. Just be back here before we have to get off to help carry the luggage and keep out of my hair!" Aunt Petunia had whispered quickly into his ear and then, to Harry's eternal surprise, she shoved five Euros into his hand and pushed him towards the door of the compartment.

Staring wide-eyed at the large sum of money in his hands, Harry carefully tucked it into his pocket and went exploring. Perhaps, Harry thought, he could buy some sweets and eat them before Dudley saw. The desserts in the restaurant had looked delightful but when the waitress had asked Aunt Petunia what "the charming little green-eyed boy" would like, Aunt Petunia had told them he wasn't to have anything on account of numerous cavities. The waitress had shot him a sympathetic smile and he had watched jealously as Dudley consumed a large crepe heaped with three different flavours of ice-cream and topped with an obscene amount of whipped cream and chocolate sauce along with a delicious looking super-sized strawberry parfait.

It was a miracle Dudley hadn't thrown up the copious amounts of sugar.

Creeping along quietly, Harry scurried by several adults who smiled indulgently at the young boy exploring the carts, wide eyes taking in every new detail that was presented to him. When he was passing through a compartment, an old lady's bag tumbled off the seat and spilled its contents onto the ground. Without much thought, Harry hurried over to help right the bag and replace the items inside. The old woman had beamed at him and pressed a handful of sweets she called "bonbons" into his hand and patted the seat beside her invitingly. It was a strange sight; an old lady chattering happily in French to a young boy while he responded in English. Neither knew the other language but carried on with their conversation regardless. By the end of their conversation though, Harry had learnt that '_Je m'appelle' _meant 'my names is' and how to say, in slightly accented French, how old he was, his favourite colour, that he was from Surrey, England and how to count to twenty.

The old lady, whose name was Annette, waved goodbye to him cheerfully as she got off at her stop and left him to his own devices once again after one last pat on his head. Armed with _bonbons_ and five whole Euros, Harry continued his journey towards the end of the train. When he happened across the restaurant, Harry had shyly asked for a strawberry-lemonade. The server, enamoured by the young man, waved Harry off as he tried to pay with his five Euros, insisting that it was on the house. Harry had tried to insist and then failing, beamed his thanks at the kind young lady, his missing front tooth only serving to make her coo over his further.

He spoke with her for a little while, telling her that he was on his way with his aunt and cousin to visit his other aunt that he never knew he had. The server watched, bemused, as the little boy gesticulated and regaled her in how his mysterious new aunt had looked like a fairytale princess and ventured, shyly, that he thinks her name was Lucia and that he hopes she'll like him. She feels her heart break a little at the thought that this charming little boy would be so insecure as to wonder whether or not his own relatives would dislike him. Perhaps, she decided, his family wasn't the warmest or maybe he's been bullied at school.

* * *

"Come along, boy! And don't drop anything!" screeched Aunt Petunia as they finally get off the train. Dudley was grumbling unhappily at having to wake up from his nap and _walk_ of all things and Harry was quick to hurry behind his Aunt while staying out of his cousin's reach.

They followed the crowd down a well-worn dirt road into a small, bustling town. People everywhere were calling out to each other in rapid French that sounded like a jumbled of very pretty syllables with very little meaning to Harry. Jostled by the crowd, Harry found himself quickly left behind by Aunt Petunia's longer strides and burdened by the weight of his baggage. After several minutes of walking and still being unable to spot Aunt Petunia, Harry found himself starting to panic. Just then, one of his arms gave out and he dropped two of the bags he had been carrying onto the ground. He struggled not to cry – Aunt Petunia was going to kill him!

A man in his late thirties with a bushy mustache stopped to help him pick them up, raising an eyebrow at how much the young boy was carrying. "_Do you need some help, young man?"_

At Harry's puzzled look, he chuckled and switched to English, "Ah, not French then, my little friend? Well, no matter, let me help you with that."

Harry was happy to let him help and more than happy that the man could speak English even if his accent was rather thick. "Thank you, mister," he sniffled slightly, "I was getting really tired."

"Ah, it's no trouble at all. Now, what is a fine young man such as yourself doing all alone so far from home, hm?"

"I'm here to visit relatives but I got lost from my Aunt and cousin. Do you think you could help me find them?" and, hoping he wasn't being too forward Harry hurriedly tacked on, "if it's not too much trouble of course, sir."

The man let out a low, pleasant laugh to cover his disapproval at the woman who would leave a young child with so many bags and so callously, "Oh, no trouble, no trouble at all! Now, tell me what does your Aunt look like? Do you know where you're headed to? Perhaps she is waiting for you there."

Harry described Aunt Petunia in the nicest terms possible and then racked his brains for their destination. "I think," he began hesitantly, "it was called the Sha-ley or something," stumbling over the unfamiliar word, "And I think one of my aunts is named Lucia."

The man crouched down and tipped Harry's face upwards into the slowly fading sunlight. "Ah, yes, you have the Leclaire eyes, I'd recognize that brilliant green anywhere. Well then, little one, that's a surprise, I thought I'd met all the Leclaires but evidently not. My name is Alan, little Leclaire, and it just so happens that I work for your family. The place you're looking for is called _Le Chalet_ and I believe the aunt you mentioned is _Mademoiselle Lucille_, lovely young lady."

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed excitedly, bouncing on his toes "Do you think you could take me there then, Mister Alan?"

"But of course, I doubt they would forgive me otherwise," Alan laughed, "Actually, why don't we call the main house and ask them to send someone down to pick you up? I don't fancy trekking up the hill with so much in my arms, do you?" he asked with a teasing wink.

"Hill?" asked Harry.

Alan chuckled and pointed to the left, "Don't tell me you missed something that big, _petit_ _Leclaire_."

Following Alan's finger, Harry blushed as he realized, belatedly, that the entire village was situated at the base of a hill. Gaze reaching the top of the hill, he gasped. Was that _Le Chalet_? Harry had been expecting a large house of some sort, but surely Alan was mistaken!

At the very top of the hill stood several gigantic mansion-like houses in a loose circle, a gorgeous fountain bubbling in the middle of the large courtyard. Squinting, the prescription of his glasses was still far from perfect, Harry was certain that there was even more behind the houses. Excited beyond words, Harry took Alan's hand without much prompting and allowed the smiling man to pull him into a nearby shop where he chatted up the owner and asked to borrow the phone. Harry couldn't take his eyes off the grand site of _Le Chalet_ for more than a few seconds at a time. He was going to live there! Him, Harry Potter, more commonly known as "boy", the "freak" extraordinaire, was going to live in something akin to a modern-day castle!

It didn't matter that Aunt Petunia was going to give him hell for getting left behind. It didn't matter that Dudley would be there with him and pretend to be loveable in front of the rest of their relatives. All that mattered was that he had met the nicest man ever, who was in turn going to bring him to the marvelous houses at the top of the hill and meet with his mysterious relatives that Harry was certain were going to be as different from the Dursleys as a dandelion was from garden roses.

He would give anything to be able to stay here forever. Anything.

* * *

AN: I know this is probably the story you all least expected me to update but I had half a chapter lying around for the longest time and decided to just finish it up. Anything in_ italics_ means it's in French - I took French up until grade ten and then promptly forgot everything I learned so do forgive me for not trying and any mistakes on what little I put in. Until next time then!

Show some love?

-Saadie


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